


For Anne Blythe

by ElderofAvonlea



Category: Anne of Green Gables - L. M. Montgomery, Anne with an E (TV)
Genre: F/M, First Kiss, also featuring the elusive orchard setting, angsty love confessions ftw, anne is just overwhelmed by how much she wants this oblivious boy, i love the idea of promise rings so we kinda spunoff that, kind of melodramatic just let me live ok
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-15
Updated: 2019-11-15
Packaged: 2021-01-31 02:07:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,232
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21438427
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ElderofAvonlea/pseuds/ElderofAvonlea
Summary: Anne joins Gilbert in his orchard to help with harvest, but soon realizes that it is hard to be around him given her realization of her love for him and his imminent engagement to someone else. Things quickly reach a T as she tries to leave, and some honest confessions ensue. Gilbert gives Anne his mother's ring to wear as a charm on her bracelet until she is ready to take the next step.Basically the product of my complete marriage to the idea of a love confession in the orchard. Omg just read this and imagine it with me, ugh *chef's kiss*Written post 3x08.
Relationships: Gilbert Blythe & Anne Shirley
Comments: 29
Kudos: 328





	For Anne Blythe

Anne felt her heart trip in her chest as she caught sight of Gilbert’s tall frame amongst the trees. His form merged into the aisle of slender trunks, his long arms reaching into the apple laden branches overhead. She slowed her step, watching with reverence at the way his fingers wrapped around each fruit, his touch firm and delicate. With a swift twist, each apple came off the stem and fell lightly into his palm. Bending down, he placed the fruit in the filling basket at his feet before turning those eyes back into the leaves.

Anne willed herself to move forward, despite the knot pulling itself tighter in her stomach. As she neared, she let out a light cough to let him know she was there.

He turned at the sound, eyes widening as he saw her.

“Anne,” he said. Surprise, but not displeasure, colored her name. Anne locked her knees so that he might not notice how weakened she became when he said her name like that, as if it was regal and something to be cherished.

“Marilla and I came by to help out while Hazel is in town, but Bash said you could use some help out here,” she said, explaining her presence. Anne had a hard time meeting his eyes.

“Yes, definitely,” he said, nodding and beckoning her over. She took a few steps closer to assess the situation. “There’s a step ladder there,” he said, pointing to a small wooden ladder leaning beside the nearest tree trunk. “You can use that to reach some of the higher fruits.”

Anne nodded, picking up the step ladder and arranging it nearby. She stepped onto it gingerly, testing its sturdiness under her boot. Finding it to wobble a bit, she rearranged it and made to step up again.

“Here,” Gilbert said quietly, taking her hand and helping her up. Her fingers curled around his as she made her way up the steps, teetering a bit on the top one before finding her balance.

Reluctantly she released his hand.

They began to pick in comfortable silence, the buzz of the bees past their ears and the calls of birds between the branches offering some tune. Anne plucked apples from between the leaves and handed them down to him so that the fruits might not get bruised on their way into the basket. A steady rhythm developed between them, and Anne was so enraptured in their easy companionship that for a moment she forgot he was in love with someone else.

Having picked all the nearby, low hanging fruit, Anne peered up into the higher boughs, sights settling on an apple just out of her reach. Stretching on her toes, she became aware of his hand ghosting at the back of her blouse, ready to catch her might she fall. She stretched further, aching for his fingers to press into her skin, her own brushing against the smooth sheen of the apple.

With a final stretch and tug, the fruit came off the branch and into her hand. She sat back on her heels, turning with a triumphant grin to hand the fruit down to him. His fingers brushed against hers as the fruit passed between them, and Anne stiffened, electricity racing down the length of her arm, lighting up her chest and squeezing the air from her lungs.

“I think I need a break,” she mumbled. As she moved to step down, he took up her hand once more. She scrambled down quickly, dropping his fingers with haste.

“Anne, are you alright?” He said her name again, his hands hovering near her, ready to take whatever action was required. Anne’s stomach turned as she looked up into his hazel eyes, brows furrowed with tender concern.

_How could she not love him?_

“I should probably go,” she said, stepping back from him. His gaze followed her, and she felt trapped in it, suffocated by the desire to reach for him, all the while knowing she must push him away, for his own sake. He was intoxicating, overwhelming, and she was torturing herself every moment she remained in front of him while his mother’s ring likely sat on another woman’s finger.

“Anne, if you’re not feeling well-” He reached for her, but she pushed his hand away. Tears stung at her eyes. She blinked furiously, fighting them back.

“Gil, please,” she begged him, her lip trembling. “_Please_ stop.”

“Stop what? Anne, I-”

“Stop saying my name like that!” she cried.

“Like what?!” he asked, his exasperation and confusion clear on his features.

“Like you want me to be yours!” She hadn’t meant to say it aloud, but now there was no taking it back.

She whimpered as he stared at her, stunned.

“I thought I could do this. I wanted to be able to, to be happy for you as you get your dreams and everything you deserve,” she continued.

“Anne, what are you saying?” he asked, stepping towards her.

“That I love you and it’s destroying me.” She let out a single, forlorn sob. “So _please_, stop making this harder than it needs to be.”

She turned away from him again, wiping at her hot cheeks. She had only taken a few steps when she felt his fingers catch her waist.

He pulled her back to face him. His eyes were lighter than she had ever seen them before, the sunlight making them almost caramel.

“I don’t love her,” he said, almost breathless. “I don’t love her.”

“Is that supposed to make this better?” She nearly spit the words at him. His fingers tightened against her, pressing into her skin.

“I don’t love her, so I can’t marry her. I won’t.”

“What?” she gasped, her heart thudding in her chest.

“It’s you, Anne. It’s always been you. I was a fool to think I could ever have been happy with a life without you in it.”

He leaned into her, hugging her to him. Tears slipped down her cheeks at his words, her fingers curling into his sleeves.

“Forgive me,” he whispered as their foreheads met, shallow breaths passing between them.

_How could she not love him?_

In answer, Anne reached up, framing his face with her hands. She pressed her lips to his, firm and sure. They held each other there, the scent of apples blowing in the autumn air around them, their trespasses forgiven with every kiss and smile.

It was a long time before Gilbert remembered himself, so caught up in the revelation of Anne’s love was he. Digging into his pocket, he pulled out a small silver ring adorned with a green stone.

Anne’s eyes shielded as he held it up between them, her fingers loosening their grasp on him.

“We don’t need to rush into anything yet,” he said, holding her gaze. He pushed back the cuff of her dress, revealing the thin silver bracelet she wore there. A single charm dangled from the chain. “Just promise me that there is a chance for us.”

The guarded look changed, the hood of her lids lifting as her eyes pooled with trust. She nodded, finding herself once again at a loss for words before him, though this time she felt that it mattered little.

Unclasping the bracelet, Gilbert slipped the small ring onto the chain and refastened it around Anne’s wrist.

“For Anne Blythe, whenever she’s ready.”

**Author's Note:**

> Can you imagine?? Writing "Anne Blythe" had me weak, I'm not gonna lie. 
> 
> Thanks for reading!! As always, I love to hear what you guys thought, so drop a comment and a kudos! I'm going to try to be better about catching up on my inbox (I'm sorry!!). 
> 
> Also, check me out on tumblr @elderofavonlea for some fire memes, crackhead theories, and future fic ideas!!
> 
> <3


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